Don't Say
by Noxid Anamchara
Summary: Everyone says goodbye and good luck before the group takes off to put their plan in motion. S6E1, possible spoilers.


**Disclaimer** : The Walking Dead and all affiliates are the property of AMC and Kirkman.

 **Noxi** : Just a little breathing room for me to spill my feelings. This is merely that little pocket of time TPTB decided to cheat me of. So I wrote my own little departure for our loves. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

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 **Don't Say**

He'd never really been good with goodbyes. Never had nobody to say goodbye too. Before the world decided to go under, he didn't have much in the way of family. Merle was always the one walking out without a goodbye. Either he was being hauled off by the police or the call of the drugs. Sometimes he left because of the ol' man. Sometimes it was a pussy. And sometimes he just left. And he was always being left behind. His ol' man was never awake for it, wouldn't have cared anyway. His idea of a goodbye was a bottle thrown at his head as he ran out the door. He'd had a dog once, best goddamn thing he ever had. But even the old Coon had left him, his life far shorter than was fair.

Goodbyes meant you were important enough that you wouldn't be forgotten when you were apart. And he'd never been important before he'd met this group.

So when everybody started saying their farewells, in private or as they met on the street, that edge crept up on him. It wasn't as powerful as it'd been before. It didn't drive him to run from the people that surrounded him, didn't make him feel like he wanted to slip into the woods and never come back. But he still didn't like all the attention, didn't feel it was necessary for anyone to single him out and say goodbye, as if this was the end. The end had happened a long time ago and there was no reason to dwell on what ifs and maybes. What ever happened, happened. Besides, he never felt comfortable saying it. Two simple words but far too much space to fill in, everybody always looking for a heartfelt moment to reminisce about or to talk about all the things they'd do or miss or see or whatever the hell else people said when they did that goodbye shit. So he kept to himself, there but not.

He headed for his bike, watching people meet up, others getting their gear, and still a few doing what they always did.

He watched Sasha laugh with Rosita, a warm hand to an arm. Women always appeared more at ease with the goodbyes. Abraham clapped Eugene on the shoulder, and Daryl couldn't help the chuckle as he watched Eugene flinch. Tara was with them, laughing as well. Men seemed as awkward as he felt about it. Like it was something they felt they had to do, but didn't know how to go about it. Just a damn headache that he didn't want.

He caught Rick talking to Carl, pointing to the house, no doubt asking him to take care of Judith. As if it was needed. Carl would look after Jude no matter what was happening. He supposed it was habit. Carl nodded, his lip curled up as he said something back. Must have been something smart because Rick shook his head with a small smile and rubbed the top of Carl's head. He turned away when he saw Michonne approach them with a content smile on her face.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the girl shift into his view. She wasn't watching where she was going, focused on what was behind her. He sidestepped her, causing her to jump. Her eyes narrowed at him, and his brow lifted in response. Enid was a weird kid. Nothing bad, nothing he disliked about her. But he could see emptiness in her eyes. Recognized it. She wasn't all there, almost a phantom. She went through the motions without getting involved. Same as he did when he first ended up with these people.

He felt sorry for her, for a moment. She was just a kid, and she already looked like a shadow shifting across the ground. Made him hate that the world turned to shit. It was the kids who were hit the hardest. But that pity was gone because he wouldn't have wanted it either. She'd survived. And that was what mattered, what he wanted remembered. He survived. Before and now. So had she.

He watched her walk away, her brown hair swaying across her back as she tiptoed around the others, avoiding the goodbyes as well.

He continued toward his bike, dropping the few supplies he gathered at his feet. He sat on the curb beside his bike, and leaned back. Early mornings weren't the same anymore. He used to be the first one up and the last one to sleep. He'd go hunting when the sun had barely broken the fog, his footsteps dampened by the wet leaves. It was quiet then, the shallow sound of bird wings and bugs the only noise. Or he'd watch the sunrise as it peeked across the horizon, a display of orange and yellow, clearer than at any other time of the day. Some days he would lie awake, away from the group, and listen to them breathe and shift in the gray morning. He'd been wary of them then, unsure of what would happen.

He heard the shift of grass behind him and a hand pressed into his shoulder. He didn't need to look to know it was Carol. He knew the feel of her fingers wrapped around his shoulder, knew the weight in her grip, and the sound of her exhale; things he'd become comfortable with. He'd learned these things over time, kept them tucked away in a corner of his mind, his body. But he looked anyway. He watched her ease herself into the space next to him, her hand retreating. Her eyes flitted through the neighborhood, watching as he had done. She said nothing as she watched Maggie kiss Glenn for the third time, her face softening for the briefest moment.

He picked up the crossbow and began cleaning it. It wasn't needed, but it was calming. Methodical. Something to keep his hands busy. And they sat like that for a time. In each other's company; quiet, thoughtful. These were the moments he loved. When he could sit and not feel pressured, to feel the need to do something or say something. Silence with Carol was natural, peaceful. Silence with Carol spoke more words than the preacher could say in a sermon on Sunday morning. This was the kind of goodbye he could do.

She finally set a bottle of water at his ankle. He didn't say anything. Just took the bottle and stashed it into the saddlebag he'd left open for the other things he wanted to pack.

" It's a long drive. " She'd asked Rick once if he wanted her on this plan, and when he'd said no she'd accepted it, and continued in her role as the naive housewife. But a part of him suspected she'd rather be out there, getting her hands dirty than playing this game of deceit. In a way, he would rather have her out there, both of them in one place. But he pushed that thought down before it could manifest.

" Gotta be done. " Alexandria had prospect. Could be something if they fought hard enough for it, if they made it safe. But he hated the walls, the way they kept him locked in. No place to run, no place to hide. Stuck, like cattle in the pen. It set his teeth on edge. As much as he didn't like leaving her here, he couldn't stay either. He wasn't suited for these people, this place. He had to get out.

" Could be awhile. " She rubbed at her arms, brought her knees up to her chest. She never looked at him. Kept her eyes forward, tracking the people that were still there. Her lips pursed and a small wrinkle formed above her nose. She was thinking about something.

" It'll be quiet with you all gone. "

He shook his head, hoping this conversation wasn't going where he didn't want it. She looked at him then, eyes searching his. He watched her fingers begin to trace something along the skin of her arm. He knew that look, had experienced it enough times to know what it meant. She said goodbye like she was trying to capture something. As if she could burn this moment in her mind and hold onto it, like a good luck charm. It always left him feeling like he was forgetting something. Like he needed to go back and find it again or he'd be worried over it.

He curled his shoulders in, forcing that feeling down until it was just the ghost of a feeling. He looked toward her. Watched her mouth turn down, and her chest expand with each breath. She must have felt his eyes because she turned to him, watching him in turn. It didn't make him anxious to watch her eyes shift the slightest in color, pupils dilate with the change of the light. He didn't mind that her eyes picked a trail across his face, mapping him out.

She opened her mouth then, to say something, and he cut her off before she could.

" Don't say - " And he could see the abrupt shift in her look as he stopped her from speaking.

" Goodbye? " Her lips curled up in a genuine smile, her eyes going soft as her head tilted just the slightest. He hadn't seen that one in awhile. The way the happiness would light up her features just the smallest bit. Her eyes would narrow, the crows feet fanning out like stars shooting across the sky. The way her lip would curl as she tried to tame it from growing too big, like she'd been tricked into one she hadn't meant to give and was pleasantly surprised by. The way her head would tilt, cheeks coloring just the slightest. It was a small change, one you wouldn't notice if you hadn't watched her smile shift and change each day it appeared. He hadn't realized how much it relieved him to see it. He knew things had changed when she came back to the group. Knew that moving passed it all was something they all did in their own time. But her time in Alexandria had turned her into someone he didn't really recognize, but knew was still her. He could imagine her like that before; when the world wasn't broken and her husband hadn't been around. Clean, polite, normal. None of that was bad, but he preferred her the way he saw her now; strong, protective, _hurt_. She'd never admit it, but he knew whatever it was that she dealt with had stayed with her. It didn't matter what happened, it only mattered that she remember he was there. Not alone. Just as she had always done for him.

" We ain't doing that now, are we? " She kept her eyes on him, that small smile still present as she thought about it. Her fingers still traced a pattern across her arm absently. She shook her head slightly.

" But we do. You just don't notice. " He thought about all the times they'd gone their separate ways, either because of a run, to take care of walkers, or to fight. Each time something had passed between them. Whether it was a shared look, an exchange of words, or a simple touch. Something happened. And he'd never thought much of it until now. Easy, how things came to them.

He shook his head, his own lips turning up in a smile.

She pressed her hand over his suddenly, and he caught her eyes again, questioning. The smile was gone, the look in her eyes no longer light. He flexed his hand beneath hers, fingers gently sliding across her fingers. Watching her eyes widen and soften at the contact made it more intimate that he'd been prepared for. He swallowed the feeling and stilled his hand, unused to how often he was comfortable enough to touch her without a thought to it. And that made him weary, as much as he wanted to welcome it. She'd been right - he _had_ changed. She must have sensed his hesitancy because she rose to her feet, letting her hand slip from his.

She stood over him longer than he thought she would have, until she reached forward. She lightly brushed two fingers across his cheek, just below his eye, and over his cheekbone, studying his features intently.

" Stay safe. "

And she was gone just as quick as her touch. He watched her leave, his cheek warm where she touched him. He focused back on what her fingers had felt like ghosting across his skin, and took a deep breath. He'd never tell her, but he would carry that feeling with him. To remind him that no matter what happened - someone would be waiting for him. That he was important enough to say goodbye to. That he was _important_ enough that someone would wait for him.

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 _caryl on._


End file.
